


Picnic

by notbloodylikely



Category: British Royalty RPF, The Crown (TV)
Genre: F/M, I continue to torture myself with this ship, Lovey doveyness, Romance, Softness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:52:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23443516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notbloodylikely/pseuds/notbloodylikely
Summary: “Boyish, good looking in the short-haired, stiff-backed manner of Royal courtiers, and nobody needs to read his allegedly stolen letters to the princess to see that he is as up to his neck over her as the happy pair looked at Balmoral, picknicking nearly cheek-to-cheek in the heather.” The Daily Mail in 1989 was my inspiration for this one.
Relationships: Anne | Princess Royal (1950 - Present)/Timothy Laurence (1955 - Present)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 15





	Picnic

Tim Laurence awoke with a long, satisfying yawn before he smiled to himself and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, remembering where he was. The sun was splitting the trees, forcing him to squint as he lay back in the grass. Nearby, the River Dee could be heard burbling over rocks and branches while high above, birdsong was carried over the vast green landscape by a cool breeze.

It was a perfect summer’s day, so much so that he had dozed off in the open air. Sitting up now, the fresh scent of the blooming heather surrounding him filled his lungs and as he took in the view of the Balmoral estate in all its glory, he felt like the luckiest man in the world. However, looking down at the person lying next to him, he knew that she was the true reason for him feeling this way.

Princess Anne had decided that they should have a picnic given the day that was in it, far too nice to be stuck indoors. But while the rest of the family had gone off fishing, planning a picnic of their own which would involve Prince Philip barbecuing whatever the catch of the day was, she insisted on them spending theres alone. Or to use her words, “having you all to myself for the afternoon.”

Knowing which particular spots the ‘vultures’ - or press photographers - had often gotten secret shots while hiding in the bushes, they had walked a good distance until she decided they would be safe in a field of purple heather in full bloom. It was there, sharing food in the sunshine in peace and tranquility with her, that Tim had decided that he was in Heaven.

It had only been four months since his letters to her had been stolen and nearly published, and he’d revealed himself as the author and promptly offered his resignation to the Queen. To his surprise, she’d refused it, telling him she knew of Anne’s feelings for him, and that it wasn’t his fault the letters had been stolen, and it shouldn’t reflect his position, in which he’d been excellent.

Having been allowed serve out his term as equerry, scrupulously ignoring the press attention he was getting and laying as low as he could, he’d still been shocked when the Queen invited him to accompany the family to Balmoral for part of their summer holiday. They always coincided with Anne’s birthday, and knowing she’d have spoken to her mother about whatever future they might have together, he’d graciously accepted.

That future was still a mystery to him. Anne had been speaking to her parents about the prospect of her separating from Mark, insisting that it was a matter of ‘when’ and not ‘if’ now. Quite honestly, the thought of a future without her in it frightened him. He couldn’t bear thinking about her not being a part of his life. Without her, what was the point?

“Penny for your thoughts?” said a sleepy voice to his right, drawing him out of his reverie. She was smiling up at him, her grey-blue eyes sparkling in the sunlight, her dark hair splayed across the picnic blanket, dotted with purple petals of heather.

“I was thinking of how I was dragged up a mountain to have a picnic only for my host to fall asleep.”

Her laughter eased the tension he’d been feeling moments ago as she gave him a playful shove while stretching her tired limbs.

“A mountain, really. It’s a hill.”

“A very bloody steep one, might aswell be a mountain-“

“And you were sleeping as-well!”

“That’s because you fed me too many jam tarts.”

“Well, you can’t say I don’t take care of you.” Brushing a petal from her forehead, he bent down and tenderly kissed her.

“I would never say that.” Her smile having grown wider now, she sat up and climbed into his lap like a child, before laying back against his chest and pulling his arms around her.

“Comfortable?” He asked playfully and she just made an approving noise, snuggling back into him to emphasise her point. _I have never loved you more than I do at this very moment_ , he thought.

They stayed like that for a while, silently admiring the view, her soothingly caressing his arms while he planted little kisses in her hair every now and then. After what felt like hours of silence, she spoke.

“I was talking to Mummy last night.”

“Mmm?”

“She basically agreed that a statement would be put out at the end of the month through the Palace, saying that Mark and I have agreed to separate..” She turned to face him then, gently stroking his cheek. “It will say that there aren’t any plans for divorce, but naturally we’ll have to be ‘officially’ apart for two years to file.”

“I know.”

“So I suppose that gives you two years to decide.”

“Decide what?” She just giggled.

“Whether you want to run for the hills!” He gripped her sides with both hands and she shrieked before he had even attempted to tickle her.

“If I wanted to do that, I wouldn’t have hiked up _this_ hill, now would I?” The playfulness quickly evaporated as their eyes met again, and a more serious look graced his features. “I love you, Anne. I can’t imagine what my life would be like if I didn’t have you in it. I’m not going anywhere, unless you want me to.”

“I don’t want you to.”

“Then I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.” Both of them smiling like lovestruck teenagers now, they found themselves in another embrace, her nails gently scratching the nape of his neck as he kissed her shoulder.

“It won’t be easy, trying to see each other.”

“Well we’ve made it this far. We’ll manage.”

“We won’t have the Palace.”

“No, and I’m probably going to be posted overseas.” She hugged him a little tighter at that.

“I shall expect a lot of letters then.” Tim groaned before they both laughed. “I’ll be extra careful! I’ll keep them at home, under my pillow.”

“I hope it has a padlock on it..” He took both her hands in this then, prompting her to look at him.

“I know it’s going to be difficult, but I meant what I said. I’m in this for the long haul, as whatever you want me to be.”

They kissed then, holding each other close and savouring the warmth and familiarity of their embrace. Two years would be nothing compared to what they might have at the end of it.

As they pulled apart, Anne shivered. The sun was beginning to disappear behind a patch of clouds now, and the cool breeze had picked up to a cold wind. Typical Scottish weather.

“Let’s go back.”

Packing up the remains of what had been their escape for the afternoon, they agreed that they would speak to the Queen together that evening, to make it clear that they were sure of one thing: that they wanted to be together.

Taking one last look at the view, nervous and excited about the two-year ‘courtship’ that lay ahead of them, Anne’s eyes fell upon Crathie Kirk in the distance, sticking out amongst the trees. _Like a beacon._

Smiling to herself, she turned back around and took Tim’s hand before they began their journey back to the Castle, together.


End file.
